Dear Professor I Cant Seem To Lock In. Its So Over

this has been a vocal stim since i first fucking heard it. idk it just tickles my brain a little

Joy Sullivan, from “At the Airport”, Instructions for Traveling West

Smithsonian Magazine

In a First, a Prosthetic Limb Can Sense Temperature Like a Living Hand

The advance may help users feel a greater sense of human connection through touch

Amputees’ hopes to experience the feeling of human touch using their prosthetics are becoming closer to reality. Now, new technology is allowing them to feel temperature—even in limbs that are no longer part of their bodies. For the first time, a functional artificial limb has been fitted with fingertip sensors that allow an ordinary prosthetic hand to sense and respond to temperature just as a living hand does. The device provides a realistic sense of hot and cold in the missing “phantom” hand by delivering thermal information to nerve areas on the amputee’s residual limb that the brain believes are still connected to the missing hand. The MiniTouch, described in a study published Friday in Med, was created with affordable off-the-shelf electronics, requires no surgery and can be fitted to existing commercial prosthetic hands in a matter of hours.

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@i-wrotethisforme // Jorge Louis Berges // @smokeinsilence //@viridianmasquerade //Jorge Louis Berges // @honeytuesday // Kaveh Akbar // F. Scott Fitzgerald // AKR //Olivie Blake, from “Alone With You in the Ether” // Kaveh Akbar, Pilgrimage

↳ i need my girl. the national

Only sneak peak that’s happening-

“And he can.” Lu remained magnanimous, she owed Bucky Egan her life, and just because they were stateside didn’t mean he could handle being set aside any better than he had in camp- she would know. Once her Major, always her Major, she wouldn’t dare buy a car without his advice. That wasn’t the issue. “He can, I just need to pass this thing without his commentary workin’ me all up.” Lu glanced back at the cinderblock municipality building furtively, like she was about to storm the place in a secret mission.

love means nothing (in tennis)

a Buck/Bucky tennis AU by phlegmatic

Gale meets John Egan at a Challenger in Bordeaux when they’re both 19 years old. After that, he can’t seem to shake him. But what’s more is, despite what his dad says about Gale’s game, and what the commentators say about their rivalry, and what he’s been told about tennis his whole life, Gale doesn’t think he wants to.

Hearing Lee yell “C’mon” above the groaning of the crowd isn’t because he’s louder than anyone else’s disappointment; it’s because it’s a sound that Gale is hearing inside his own head anyway. The aim had been correct, according to Gale’s eyes, but his body is lurching into serves with limbs dragged through pulpy juice—or something even more viscous, hotter, like the air weighing down his lungs. Weather forecast didn’t say anything about heat, but Gale may as well be breathing in the sun and seawater. Both serves (both faults), he looked down the court—desert stretch of orange—and Lemmons was made of soft rubber, but Gale could see the lines. The ball is the problem, not going where he sends it. His body is moving too slow, is the problem, and there’s a knife behind his eye, poking through the cotton wool filling his skull. The ringing in his ears is the problem, the dizziness.

🎾 read chapter five on ao3 🎾

it wild to me that there are people out there who aren't interested in history

like wdym you don't think about the fact that women would tell stories as they made butter in the same way we listen to podcasts today? wdym you don't think about that one Chinese poet who wrote about how much he loved his cats hundreds of years ago? wdym you don't think about the fact that we found a gravesite of a young child surrounded by flowers from THOUSANDS of years ago? wdym you don't think about how people wrote "i was here" into the walls in Pompeii? wdym you don't think about the little egyptian boy who drew little doodles at the top of his school works more then a thousand years ago?

wdym you don't think about the fact that people, no matter the place, time, or social status, are fundamentally no different from you. that they loved the same as you, enjoyed the same things you did, dreamed about a better life the same way you did. that despite how seemingly detached you are from these people, in time, place, and culture, the things you do and what u are is so undeniably human that it transcends time and space

update: BIKINI ORDERED😇

the only thing i ever want to be doing is sitting on a beach in a skimpy bikini eating fruit. if i’m ever doing anything other than that, know i’d rather be on a beach in a skimpy bikini eating fruit.

Detti Kacsor